


draw a line in the dirt and stand

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-27
Updated: 2007-09-27
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	draw a line in the dirt and stand

It’s surprising how quiet the night can be, nothing but the scuff of boots through the dust and the tickticktick of metal cooling after the engine stills. Dean shrugs his jacket off, nights warming into summer quickly, thinks of Sam when he slips it through the open window and onto the seat.

He’s ready for this, salt in one hand and Sam’s sprawling notes in the other, one last job before the end. The crossroads is here too, convenient, just twelve strikes of the clock to finish the job before things are set right again. Dean looks up, the moon watching down on him in pale white.

Fifteen steps to the bridge, twenty across. The boards creak under his weight, unused by any save a weightless rider for a long time. Once a year on the full moon one goes missing, wide eyes found with stopped hearts on just this side of the bridge. Dean lays the line thick, pure white over grayed wood. His shirt clings to his chest, the wrong kind of salt licked from his lip with parched tongue.

Strike one, the hoofbeats sound, mad rush across the earth like time still exists. The air holds still, suspended as it moves closer. Dean steps off the bridge, sliding over the edge of the embankment.

Strike two, it comes closer, glint of moonlight off the shimmer of black gliding through the darkness. Dean waits.

He can see the horse now; strike three echoing under the shriek of terror. The earth shakes, Dean turns to check the line intact.

She’s watching him now, strike four as the man shimmers into view, emptiness where a face should have been.

A smile across her lips, eyes flashing red, low growl of her dogs at her feet, strike five.

Sam’s there for strike six, bleary eyed as he full out runs for the bridge, for the demon and for Dean.

Seven and the horse touches the bridge, full out speed knocked to a walk just before it hits the line of salt. Click three steps back to get away, strike eight but Dean’s already there to close the exit.

Flash of flame in his hand, strike nine and Sam’s voice louder than the beat of hoof against wood, metal flashing out toward Dean’s head, duck and weave.

The wood catches quickly, dry with age and wet with gasoline, strike ten and they call out _//vaya al infierno//._

The bridge falls in, one brother on each side, strike eleven and Dean’s waiting.

‘Keys are in the car, Sammy. Don’t make me haunt your ass.’

Strike twelve. 

 

 


End file.
